She smiles but shakes her head. “As nice as it would be to see you, I want to see if I can do it. Want to know that I can.”
I get that. “Well, the offer’s there. You’re not the only one who wants some extra time together.”
A slew of brown bottles is lined up along a shelf in no particular order, their labels handwritten in either a neat script (Paige) or a hasty scrawl (Skye).
“Are these your potions?” I ask. One catches my eye. “Paige’s Obsession, huh?”
Her eyes widen. “Um, see, that’s, uh …”
And that pretty much settles the question of me smelling it. I pull it down immediately and open it. At first, all I’m hit with is smoke, and I have to pull back, but once it settles, I know it’s not smoke I’m smelling, but specifically a fire. Oak, and cedar, and …
“Is that sage?”
“It’s what your shop smells like,” she says, ducking her head, and I fall a little bit more in love with her.
I could blame the lump in my throat on the oil in my hand, but it’s hard to deny the tears that I can feel welling up. The first escapes before I can stop it, and instead of brushing it away, I let it roll down my cheek as I place the oil back on the shelf.
Paige asked for vulnerability, and this is as real as I get.
Gently, she wipes it away with her thumb. “The wax is ready, if you want to pour it?”
“Sure.”
As I start to pour, she asks, “When did smells start to bother you?”
I promised to be an open book to her, and it seems she’s made it her mission to get as much information from me as possible.
It helps that I want to give it to her.
“My mom was anxious about germs. I couldn’t move without being wiped down with disinfectant.Sometimes, I swear I woke up with Lysol burning down my throat; it was so thick.”
“You seem okay with them, apart from the whole tidy thing.”
I huff a laugh that’s more of an acknowledgment than actual amusement. “Yeah, well, whenever she thought it was safe enough to let me out of the house, I made it a mission to get as messed up as I could to prove she was wrong, but it backfired pretty quick. My immune system took a while to sort itself out.”
“It must have made it hard to hang out with your friends.”
Or even have friends. “Yeah,” I admit. “It was.”
Paige links my free hand with hers, and I gently squeeze my thanks into her palm. In a mirror of what I did earlier, she brings our joined hands to her lips and smiles. I feel it all the way down to my bones.
“Everyone else has only tolerated it,” I tell her. “Or wanted to change me. You’re the first person who hasn’t. It’s nice.”
Paige gestures for me to finish pouring. “You’re the first person to make me feel interesting.”
I can’t pour and look at her, which is why I suspect she waited until I was busy to say anything. “Skye doesn’t …”
“Oh, Skye loves me, but we both know she burns brighter than I do.”
“Not to me.”
“I know.” She smiles. “I like that. Being special to you.”
“You see me,” I say. “I’ve never had that before.”
With the last candle poured, Paige uses a peg to keep the wick in place. I set the pouring pot to the side.
“I don’t want to mess this up, Paige.”
